December 5, 2011
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It is the face of sorrow,
the perpetual night
in which he dwelt.

O dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse
without hope of all day.

The angel that led him forth
out of prison
singing of love, of war.

It was the rhythmical flow
that I can feel
in it.

These daisy-starred fields
and sweet-breathed meadows
shall endure forever.

Where I had joy,
my pulses dance and my heart

My affections,
I love their affectionate ways
I love, my love for him.

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